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How To LiveWrite Like a Goblin on Reaching Out

This post by the resident Goblin is one that touched me on a very personal level. Read it and tell us what it made you feel. That is, if you care to share.

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Geneva is a small place, and walking across from the bridge on a dull warm day, became the last time the goblin would ever meet him, his friend from denmark that is, the dane then, simply, it was while waiting for the homeward bus, the ensuing conversation between them had turned around to the moment where the dane just confided “…actually I don’t want to go home goblin tonight, my life is shit and I’m in a real mess so I am going to a friend’s…”, the goblin replied “…look there’s that AA place almost opposite from where you live, they’d listen and sort it out for you, well at least get some advice there then, and no one would know, would they…”, but what was happening to the dane now, somehow the goblin both knew and felt, wasn’t the actual alcoholism, no, the dane was stalling his own life into a tailspin here, the dane was “ending it”, and now while looking at the dane’s face the goblin could see, or had recollections of, those others that the goblin had known, as ever hiding behind their uniform reassuring expressions as that “exit plan” was taking over inside them, so again the voice in the goblin’s mind just went “…no, it’s always the ones that never mention it by name…”, as the goblin then watched the dane calmly cross the road before him as if walking out of this life too

8 thoughts on “How To LiveWrite Like a Goblin on Reaching Out”

(“…thanks for the company then…” replied the goblin, adding “…I guess it’s different for someone like myself who is anonymous in that my writings can never amount to anything really, only that I will have met others while doing this writing lark…”, so the goblin wrote to read, smiling “…so feed me if you like, and whenever you’re ready too, as you owe it to your pen within the time remaining, for this life is not twice it seems…”)

Unsettling. The times I have reached out, the person was much nearer. Sometimes another will accept help and/or advice, but not always. Sometimes they have made up their mind in advance and it does no good to try to bridge that distance. The only time I was around someone determined to take their own life, there was nothing I could do. The doctors (body & brain), hospital staffing, Chaplin, etc. were equally helpless. As my father said, “I knew this body when it was young and strong and I liked it. Now I’m old and weak, and I don’t like it.” They cannot pour enough nutrients into an aging person determined to go home.

I’ve never been around a younger person that had given into despair, If you are one, perhaps more talking would help. Would writing? I do not know. The distance here is too far for something as simple as meeting for coffee.

(“…where death is nature’s debt repaid in full now, for it was ever borrowed time while it lasted…” ventured the goblin moved by what he had just read, adding “…but I guess I’m like him though, I mean I spent years catching my mother’s slide into dementia, but never once would I envisage my children supporting me in that manner, not that it’s pride on my part, nor cowardice neither, it’s just that it would dash my dream of their happiness, and besides, doesn’t one have to die sometime of something, might as well die for those one loves then, you miss him but you must be proud of him too, or am I missing something here, tell me more if you like…”)

Of course, I miss him just as I miss my mother. That was part of his problem. Mama had been dead for two years and six months. All his friends had passed away as he had been watching them do so for over forty years. He was strong and gentle, but even as he was dying he still managed to teach others. He was to the point where he did not recognize anyone, but when the Chaplin said the Lord’s Prayer and pronounced the Aaron Blessing (given at the end of Lutheran services), the peace of God filled his face and for a moment that horrible breathing returned to normal and he slept naturally for about two hours. The Chaplin was young and quite dumbfounded. He had heard of the power of God’s Word, had preached about it, but had never seen it in action before. I was blessed to have such parents.

(by now the goblin had read Mari’s second post here, end offered a hug of sorts, and then smiled, probably seeing himself there and how he himself would like to be like her father too, adding “…to be honest, the default of a man is ever “off” isn’t it, no, these circumstances keeps one here perhaps but the point of life was never [i]longevity[/i] in itself, no it was to fight on till all dignaty and purpose was gone from one, as in spent perhaps, and then to wisely join one’s comrades one’s parents and old friend too off the battlefield beyond, for one doesn’t leave here until the spirit is ready, all meaning that [i]to kill oneself during battle[i/] is such a betrayal, a murderous action that sows doubt and pain amongst those left behind as to whether they caused it or to whether they could have prevented it, but no, your father’s case was quite different, clearly his spirit was ready and they’re together now, just that’s [i]life’s debt[i/] I suppose where we’ll all be together as some point, we belong to our own time as [i]debt paid[i/] perhaps…”)

(“…thanks mouse for picking that one then…” voiced the goblin suspecting that most humans could relate in their way, adding “…stepping back from the topic a bit, it’s just nice to note whether these forum posts can be adapted in this way to here now, where hopefully others will be thinking upon how to adapt their writings to a readership that is as interactive as this online is..”, at which point the slot intervened, saying “…look, hate to admit it but no one has replied yet goblin, and what will you do if they don’t…”, whereupon the goblin just smiled and drew a circle in the air to reveal a small table with a white pot of the finest filtered coffee together with a plate of home made biscuits, sugar and cream to match, continuing “…well, they’ll miss out on much won’t they, for this coffee is like no other I can assure you…”, as the goblin counted the cups now)